


a little to the left

by Phoenix_Soar



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Comedy, Crack, Discord: O Lord Heal This Server, Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, OLHTS made me do it, Prompt Fill, Smut, cursed ficlets for cursed prompts, more like crack smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:15:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27618230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_Soar/pseuds/Phoenix_Soar
Summary: Prompt 9 -Let's Watch...Crowley drags Aziraphale to the cinema to tick a very special item off his unofficial Courting Aziraphale bucket list. It does not go as planned.~***~A collection of ficlets, of the cursed smutty kind, written as fills for crack prompts on discord. Relevant tags included in individual chapters.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 135
Kudos: 224
Collections: The Not-Very-Nice and Anatomically-Inaccurate Prophecies of OLHTS





	1. (Pegging) - It's Fashionable

**Author's Note:**

> Blanket declaration that OLHTS made me do it. Welcome to my iteration of cursed omens.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - **Pegging**

Crowley blinks, the first time he’s done so all day, because he is _that_ taken aback.

‘Come again?’

Aziraphale’s face is steadily turning redder than the wine he is staring into. ‘I believe you heard me just fine.’

‘No, really, angel, you want to do _what_ now?’

Aziraphale looks up, quietly determined. ‘I want to try pegging you.’

Hearing it the second time doesn’t alleviate Crowley’s surprise by much. He leans back in the sofa, regarding Aziraphale contemplatively.

Aziraphale’s face falls. ‘It doesn’t excite you, does it?’

‘Frankly, I’m shocked it excites _you_. Didn’t think you were interested in that area.’

‘I’m open to new experiences,’ Aziraphale says. ‘And it seems quite fashionable these days.’

‘It is.’ Crowley nods. Breaking into a grin, he twists around on the sofa and slings a leg over Aziraphale’s lap.

His snakeskin shoe ripples in a most perturbing way, and Aziraphale just knows he’s wiggling his toes.

‘Go on, then.’

Aziraphale looks up, blank. ‘Pardon?’

Crowley gestures at the bottom of his jeans. ‘Roll it up.’

Aziraphale is about to protest but Crowley looks so _excited_. Pursing his lips, he begins to fold up the hem.

‘Angel.’

‘What?’

‘ _Tighter_.’

Nonplussed, Aziraphale rolls up the bottom of Crowley’s jean leg as tightly as possible until it can go no further up.

Crowley sighs, smiling in satisfaction. ‘You’re a natural.’

‘Crowley, what -?’

‘You’re a few decades behind, but I’m proud of you catching up with fashion, angel. You pegged me _just_ right!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to Wikipedia: "Pegging may refer to: Pegging (sexual practice) ... Tight rolled pants ( **pegged** pants), in fashion"
> 
> Crowley knows more about fashion than sex


	2. (Sauces) - A Convenient Idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - **Sauces**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags - Aziraphale has a Penis, Blowjobs

In retrospect, Crowley thinks it entirely makes sense that food is what ultimately facilitates their first time together. Culinary journeys across human history is the cornerstone of their friendship, after all; it should be one such adventure that finally fans the spark into a flame.

Though, from the look on Aziraphale’s face when he catches Crowley wrangling a snack together in his flat, _he_ considers it less an adventure and more a nightmare.

‘What,’ Aziraphale enunciates in the tone that sends mobsters scurrying out of his shop to never be seen again, ‘is that?’

‘Issa hotdog, the hell does it look like?’ Crowley says, too busy going through his cupboards to pay much attention. He throws up his hands. ‘My condiments are out,’ he growls in a tone implying it is said condiments’* fault for running out. ‘No mustard, no mayo…’

(* It is, as the rest of Crowley’s well-stocked** kitchen will attest to.

** It’s less about function and more about _aesthetic_ , Crowley had explained to Aziraphale once.)

‘But why would you eat _that_ ,’ Aziraphale demands, ‘when we’re going to the Ritz tonight?’

Crowley finally faces him, crocking an eyebrow. ‘Junk food is _great_ , angel. I should know, I _invented_ them. Won me all the Gluttony points.’

‘Of course, you did.’ Aziraphale looks unimpressed. ‘But it is beyond comprehension why you would wilfully choose to put a disgusting _hotdog_ -’ Aziraphale turns up his nose, ‘- in your _mouth_.’

‘Maybe ’cause I don’t get to put _your_ hotdog in my mouth,’ Crowley snaps, glaring at Aziraphale’s face, and then his crotch, and then his blushing face.

Wait.

They stare at each other.

Next moment, Aziraphale is in Crowley’s arms, and his hands are fisted in Crowley’s henley, and his lips are mushed against Crowley’s mouth, pushing blindly against him.

All in all, a most delicious development.

The simmering embers of six thousand years flare up into not so much a flame but an inferno; kissing leads to outright groping and then fewer clothes, until Crowley has Aziraphale pinned against his counter, bucking into his fist.

‘You,’ Crowley hisses into Aziraphale’s neck, delighting in his gasp when he nips at the heated skin, ‘are a bloody snob.’

‘I have standards,’ Aziraphale retorts, his attempt at haughtiness shattering with a wanton moan as Crowley twists his hand, roughly working his cock. ‘Oh, Crowley, please -!’

‘What’s this, _begging_?’ Crowley teases, tugging at Aziraphale’s earlobe with his teeth. ‘For release from a plebeian who eats _hotdogs_ such as myself?’

He draws back to observe Aziraphale’s face; he’d gathered from Aziraphale’s fumbling kiss earlier that perhaps the Angel is new to all this. But Aziraphale thrusts harder into Crowley’s fist, his expression one of wild abandon. All good then.

‘Oh, don’t tease me, you fiend, I’m so close, _please_ -!’

Better than good then. Grinning, Crowley catches Aziraphale’s panting mouth in a searing kiss. ‘What do you want, angel?’

‘Crowley, you -!’

‘Can’t read minds, love, you need to tell me what you want.’

Aziraphale gathers enough control over his facial features to shoot Crowley a glare. ‘What was that earlier, about having my …’ he trails off, abruptly blushing, ‘in - in your mouth?’

Crowley laughs, delighted. ‘Is that what you want me to do?’ He swipes his thumb over the head of Aziraphale’s leaking cock, teasing at his slit with every firm stroke. Aziraphale clings to him, crying out plaintively. ‘Thought it was unseemly to put such things in my -’

‘Crowley!’

It’s the way Aziraphale almost sobs his name that sends Crowley immediately to his knees. Grasping the Angel by his heaving hips, Crowley swallows down his straining cock in one smooth motion, humming in delight when it nudges down his throat -

Aziraphale explodes in his mouth, screaming Crowley’s name, and it is absolute euphoria - until the _tang_ , like a vinegary kick in his teeth, bursts over his tongue. Crowley falls back, coughing and spluttering as semen, incongruously thick and _too much_ , dribbles out of his mouth and down over his chin.

‘My dear,’ Aziraphale gasps, reaching for Crowley, ‘are you all ri -?’

‘Why the _fuck_ does your come taste like _mayonnaise_?’ Crowley shouts, gagging around the thick cream.

Aziraphale stands before him, nearly naked and his face beet red. ‘I …’ Aziraphale wrings his hands together. ‘I’ve never serviced anyone like that and … I didn’t know what it’s supposed to taste like.’

Crowley’s eyes nearly bulge out. ‘What it’s supposed to - fucking heaven! And how’d you come to the conclusion that it should taste like _mayonnaise_?’

‘I mean,’ Aziraphale twiddles his thumbs together, ‘I’ve seen it before, of course. And the colour and texture did remind me -’

‘You saw come and the first thing you thought of was _food_?’ Crowley demands. But then, he snorts. ‘Actually, no, never mind. That’s totally on brand for you. ‘’Course you did.’

Aziraphale bristles, pulling himself up defensively. ‘Well, excuse me if I’ve never -’

‘Cows been shooting milk outta their udders for millennia but still _mayonnaise_ is what occurs to you?’ Crowley says, still sniggering.

Aziraphale huffs. ‘I’ll make the necessary amendments -’

‘Don’t,’ Crowley says, grinning. He sits up on his knees and presses a placating kiss to the tip of Aziraphale’s cock. With another kiss to his pudgy belly, he begins to stroke Aziraphale back to hardness.

‘No?’ Aziraphale says uncertainly. ‘But why -?’

‘Because it’s a convenient idea. Fucking inspired.’ Crowley snatches up his abandoned hotdog and holds it under Aziraphale’s prick. ‘I’ll never have to buy mayonnaise again.’


	3. (Public Transport) - Hard Wood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - **Public transport ~~intercourse~~**
> 
> Crowley persuades Aziraphale to help him with some public wiling. Aziraphale shouldn't be this turned on by it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags - Crowley has a penis, Aziraphale has a vulva, Aziraphale is briefly a cat

It doesn’t take even five seconds. ‘No,’ says Aziraphale.

Crowley’s face doesn’t fall, but that’s only because he’d guessed Aziraphale’s answer before he asked.

‘Angel -’

‘Absolutely not.’ Aziraphale makes to shut the door of his cottage. Crowley wedges his foot between the door and frame. Only sheer stubbornness keeps him from wincing*.

(* Or his foot from fracturing. Aziraphale is stupidly strong even when he doesn’t have to be.)

‘C’mon, I’m begging you here. Think of it as part of the Arrange -’

Aziraphale’s concern for Crowley’s foot devolves into exasperation. ‘The Arrangement does not concern us working on the same assignment together. Even if it did -’ he raises his voice when Crowley tries to interrupt, ‘- I could never be persuaded to ride that  _ abomination _ .’ 

He waves at Crowley’s admittedly unorthodox form of transportation, which is leaning innocuously against his wall. At Aziraphale’s glare, it quickly keels over, landing on the grass.

To add insult to injury, Aziraphale adds, ‘With you looking like  _ that _ . He eyes Crowley up and down, from the tip of his pointy hat to the hem of his robes.

‘Just this one exception,’ Crowley says desperately. ‘You do this and I’ll take your next  _ three _ blessings.’

‘My next three -?’ Aziraphale squints at him. ‘Regardless of location?’

‘Treat you to a meal each time, too.’

‘Oh, very  _ well _ , then.’ Aziraphale steps outside. ‘What do you need me to do?’

Crowley lights up with relief. ‘First, I need you to be a cat.’

‘A  _ what _ ?’

‘Yanno, be my familiar.’ Crowley shrugs. ‘Humans believe that shit. Can’t get a real cat ’cause they get spooked around me -’

‘What animals  _ aren’t _ spooked around you?’

‘Rattlesnakes,’ says Crowley, unfazed. He wiggles his fingers at Aziraphale. ‘Go on, then.’

Heaving a put-upon sigh, Aziraphale closes his eyes and transforms.

Crowley stares down at him. ‘Um … I kinda envisioned something a bit more …  _ haggard _ . Flea-bitten. Maybe with an ear scratched off. Or a bent tail. Black. Goes with the aesthetic.’

The plump cat with illustriously long and luscious white fur, gives Crowley a look that could lower Hell’s temperature by several degrees. 

‘All right, all right,’ Crowley laughs affably. He picks up the ‘abomination’ and swings a leg over it, scooting up and down its length to find the best position. He grins down at the cat.

‘Hop on the broom, angel.’

~***~

Of all the ridiculous ‘wiles’ Crowley has ever done - to Aziraphale’s knowledge - posing as a witch to wreak havoc among humans takes the cake*.

(* A yet uninvented phrase that will become one of Aziraphale’s favourites. Obviously.)

When Aziraphale asks why, Crowley mutters something about Hell’s zealous enthusiasm for humans’ newest form of misogynistic bigotry.

‘I thought the witch trials were an infernal invention anyway?’ Aziraphale remarks as he leaps onto the broomstick.

‘I thought  _ your _ lot came up with them,’ says Crowley. ‘All that getting rid of non-conformists and whatnot.’

‘It’s not ours!’

‘Ehhh. Makes sense. Humans come up with the worst shite themselves. Hold tight, angel.’

The reason Crowley needs Aziraphale’s help, it turns out, is because getting a broom to fly while simultaneously setting off silly miracles to mess about with humans requires two sets of supernatural minds for smooth operations. 

Crowley has asked Aziraphale to take over the flying bit while he wiles about. It sounds straightforward enough.

What Aziraphale hasn’t counted on, however, is the momentum as the broom shoots up. He is flung backwards - with an embarrassingly high pitched mewl - right into Crowley.

Specifically, into Crowley’s crotch.

Crowley seems oblivious to the impropriety of it - ‘Oops, sorry angel, I warned ya’ - but then again, Aziraphale  _ is _ a cat right now. It’d probably be different if the angelic butt pressing back on Crowley's cock - Aziraphale can feel it through the robes, good lord, that thing is impressive! - weren’t fluffy. With a tail.

Probably, Aziraphale thinks, blushing*.

(* He imagines he is blushing and so his little cat face is.)

But then they reach the nearest village and Aziraphale focusses on flying. Crowley cracks his knuckles.

It doesn’t take too long before Aziraphale pieces together what Crowley is really up to. 

All done up in his black robes and pointy hat, with his long red hair flying about, Crowley does a whole lot of mad cackling, randomly making pails of milk explode, and tripping up a few pitchfork-wielding men, as they zigzag among the cottages. Twice, Crowley makes cows fly over the screaming humans’ heads; the unflappable animals just moo.

Superficially, it appears Crowley is feeding the ‘normal’ humans’ fear of the occult. But in every village, Aziraphale glimpses an unlit pyre - and young women with conspicuous red hair fleeing from the pandemonium.

_ Oh, you sly, dear serpent _ , Aziraphale thinks, his heart swelling with affection for Crowley. Also with something else, because it’s these  _ nice _ little acts that have been making Aziraphale’s heart beat faster for millennia. 

Six villages later, they head back to Aziraphale’s cottage. Aziraphale turns to face Crowley.

‘Downstairs’ll be off my back now,’ Crowley is saying gleefully. ‘All that screaming about witchcraft.’

‘Yes. And I’m certain the young ladies you freed are also very grateful.’

‘Wot?’

‘The women sentenced to burn this afternoon, I believe? Until you sailed in and diverted the villagers’ attention so they could escape.’

‘Dunno what you’re blathering about,’ says Crowley airily, but his cheeks are pink.

Aziraphale cuddles closer to him, now deliberately nuzzling his cock. ‘It was very attractive, I thought.’

Crowley’s eyes are wide, finally taking notice of how firmly wedged between his thighs Aziraphale is - has been the whole time, because well, Crowley is warm. 

‘I cackled through a village and made flying cows shit over people’s heads and you found that sexy?’

Aziraphale finally transforms back to his human corporation; facing Crowley, he ends up in his lap - at least, as much as possible to be, being on a broomstick and whatnot. Crowley yelps in surprise and only a hasty miracle keeps them airborne.

With a slow smile, Aziraphale yanks up Crowley’s robes, wraps his legs around Crowley’s hips, and vanishes his own loose breeches. Crowley’s cock rubs over his soaked folds and Aziraphale sighs with pleasure.

‘Very much,’ he whispers before kissing Crowley soundly.

What happens next involves a series of bizarre aerobatics; namely, Crowley angling his broomstick vertically to hop about in mid-air like a pogo stick, allowing Aziraphale to bounce on his cock with little to no effort on his side.

At some point - after a mishap involving a passing formation of rude geese - they successfully reach satisfaction. 

‘Blessed heavens,’ Crowley mutters, still dazed, when they’re finally on solid ground.

‘Mmm,’ Aziraphale agrees, giving Crowley one more kiss. ‘My dear, I suggest opting for a better mode of transport if we’re going to do that while travelling.’

Crowley splutters. ‘It wasn’t  _ my _ idea to fuck on a broomstick!’

‘Are you complaining,’ says Aziraphale with a small smirk. ’As I recall, the witch’s wood was quite hard indeed.’


	4. (IKEA) - Sturdy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - **IKEA**
> 
> Aziraphale has an ulterior motive for going to IKEA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags - Crowley has a penis, Aziraphale has whatever you want him to, semi-public sex

‘You realise no one tries out the beds like _this_ before buying, right?’

‘How nonsensical. How does one make a wise purchase without trying it out?’

‘Aziraphale,’ Crowley’s voice is strained, ‘there’s a difference between lying down on a bed to test it -’

‘Which we are -’

‘And miracling off our trousers and fucking like rabbits,’ Crowley finishes wryly. He raises an eyebrow at the Angel lying under him, who is waiting impatiently to be buggered in the bed he has dragged Crowley onto.

It is tucked away in a corner of the vast bedroom section. It’s also a slow Tuesday morning - though none of that means they won’t be caught. Crowley glances over his shoulder warily.

‘But obviously we must ensure its _sturdiness_ before we buy,’ Aziraphale replies, digging his fingers into Crowley’s bare arse to bring their hips together, ‘considering we need this new bed because mine broke in the first place.’

‘Angel,’ Crowley’s voice cracks when Aziraphale begins to grind up against him, ‘your bed broke ’cause it was fucking ancient. And you kept demanding me to go _harder_ -’

‘You fucked me right through it,’ sighs Aziraphale with a dreamy smile.

‘- nearly threw out my back, my spine hasn’t been the same -’

‘You’re very good,’ Aziraphale assures him, locking his legs around Crowley’s hips.

‘And finally, _IKEA_ is the wrong place for _sturdy_.’ Crowley snorts. ‘It’s one of mine, y’know? Right up there with the M25.’

‘Well, we need a bed and we’re here now,’ says Aziraphale matter-of-factly. ‘So, if you would be so kind …’

‘Ugh, fine, lemme just stop time -’

‘I’ve taken care of it,’ says Aziraphale quickly. ‘No customer will wander this way.’

‘Right…’ Crowley squints at him.

‘Now, be a dear and get on with it. You’ve kept me waiting, aching and empt - _ah_!’ Aziraphale gasps when Crowley pushes in without warning.

'Aching and empty and _open_ for me already,’ Crowley smirks at Aziraphale’s drawn out moan when he bottoms out. ‘Just shameless for it, aren’t ya.’

‘If you don’t stop talking and see to me -’

‘Can’t believe you’re making me fuck in bloody IKEA,’ Crowley mumbles before finally putting his back into it.

Aziraphale is not quiet. He isn’t quiet while enjoying food and he is even less inclined while enjoying Crowley - and clearly public spaces aren’t a deterrent.

‘Oh hell,’ Crowley groans when Aziraphale wails his name on a particularly hard thrust. Aziraphale rocks down to meet Crowley’s hips with boundless enthusiasm; at this intensity, the wet slapping of skin is even louder than the creaking of the bed frame which, to neither’s surprise, rocks harder than a storm-tossed boat.

And still, Aziraphale begs for Crowley to take him harder.

Sex with an Angel means dropping all restraint otherwise needed with fragile humans - but as liberating as it is, Crowley has found that most man-made surfaces can’t withstand it, least of all a bed in IKEA.

A startled laugh escapes him when the whole thing collapses. Still rock hard and aching inside Aziraphale, Crowley is about to keep going when Aziraphale suddenly looks over his shoulder.

Eyes widening, he comes with a sharp cry.

Crowley twists around.

An IKEA employee is standing by the wardrobe which has been partially blocking their bed from the rest of the section.

Crowley opens his mouth to speak.

‘We got another pair of horny pervs over here, Karen,’ the staff calls over his shoulder, his tone languid and bored. He raises an eyebrow at the broken frame. ‘That’s a first. You know the rule, folks. You break it, you buy it.’

Blessing under his breath, Crowley stops time. He pulls Aziraphale up with him, fixes the bed with a snap and dresses them both with another. He doesn’t resume time until they are out of view of the employee, who is heard saying, ‘The fuck? Ehh, never mind, Karen.’

Crowley rounds on Aziraphale. ‘You said no one would see us while we -!’

‘I said no _customer_ would wander over,’ Aziraphale corrects him primly.

Crowley stares at him. Aziraphale looks back mildly, but his face is steadily reddening.

‘Fucking heaven, you did that on purpose,’ Crowley breathes. ‘You wanted us to get caught. You fucking _got off_ on it.’

Aziraphale sniffs, saying nothing.

‘This is why you insisted on coming here instead of letting me miracle your bed back together?’

‘Don’t act as if you hated it.’

‘I’m not.’ Lips curving up, Crowley leans against a bookshelf. ‘Six thousand years of repression have made you a kinky heathen and I am _delighted_.’

‘Crowley,’ says Aziraphale, half-laughing.

Crowley pulls Aziraphale into a kiss, rolling his hard cock against him. ‘Think this bookshelf is sturdy enough?’


	5. (Summoning) - Bippity Boppity Boo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - **Summoning**
> 
> Crowley is summoned by his Angel. Not a single fibre of his being is ready to learn the reason.

It is a perfectly boring Sunday. Crowley is watching Golden Girls reruns on a news-only channel - that is to say, he is waiting for an acceptable time period to pass before he sees Aziraphale again.

He idly wonders if inviting himself over for drinks at Aziraphale’s backroom two nights in a row would constitute _too fast_.

It’s just a drink, Crowley muses. Not like he’s snogging the Angel. Should he go see him?

And then it appears that the universe takes it upon itself to, quite rudely, make the decision for him.

There is an almighty _tug_ around his navel, as if a rollercoaster Crowley didn’t know he was strapped to has just dropped, and next moment, his molecular integrity is being torn apart - _'_

_You can’t pull out a person, that’s rubbish!'_

\- and unceremoniously mashed back together.

‘Oh! Em! _Gee_!’

The first thing Crowley registers is the screams. High pitched. Not scared, he realises. Excited. Likely a bit shocked.

He blinks and there are children, prepubescent from the looks of them, gathered in a group on his left. All are staring at him and most are still yelling.

‘How’d you do that?!’

‘I thought he was speaking rubbish-!’

The next thing Crowley feels is the grip on his hair. He looks up and is met with familiar blue eyes that fill him with warmth. A knee jerk reflex.

But then he sees the inked on moustache.

_Fuck no_.

‘Hello. Um,’ says Aziraphale, grimacing.

Crowley takes a deep breath. It does nothing to prepare him. Aziraphale has one hand in his hair and the other is holding a hat - a black top hat inside which the rest of Crowley’s body, from the waist down, is still stuffed.

‘Aziraphale,’ Crowley forces through gritted teeth, ‘did you just. Pull me. Out of your hat … like I'm _Harry the fucking rabbit_?!’

Aziraphale winces. ‘It’s Jessica now.’ He nods at a fluffy white rabbit crouched on his magician’s table. She twitches her nose at Crowley. ‘I’m afraid Harry has passed -!’

‘What the -!’ Crowley stops, remembering the humans. With a growl, he stops time. ‘Get me out!’

‘Yes, yes, my apologies, dear.’ Aziraphale tugs on Crowley’s hair, pulling a couple more inches of his hips out of the hat.

‘Are you joking right now?’

‘Right, sorry,’ says Aziraphale, flustered. Releasing Crowley’s hair, he slips his arms under his armpits to lift him out instead. It’s only _marginally_ better than being yanked.

‘To reiterate,’ says Crowley once he is on his feet, ‘what the everlasting fuck, angel?’

‘I can explain!’ Aziraphale raises his arms placatingly. ‘I picked up entertaining again -’

‘Yeah, no shit.’

‘But it seems children everywhere aren’t satisfied with parlour tricks anymore.’

‘Warlock’s party didn’t clue you in?’

Aziraphale huffs, turning up his nose. ‘In any case, these children became most deprecating, it was rather uncalled for -’

‘Pushed your buttons, did they,’ drawls Crowley, beginning to grin.

‘And, _well_. I don’t know what came over me. I found myself driven to prove I could pull something far more impressive than little Jessica out of my hat -’

‘And you thought, _ah yes, a Demon would do quite nicely_?’ Crowley mimics Aziraphale’s posh intonation. He snickers when the Angel glares at him. ‘How did you even …?’ Crowley snatches up the top hat and peers inside.

He blinks.

‘Yes,’ Aziraphale shifts from one foot to the other, almost squirming, ‘I might have … miracled a very thin stick of chalk to draw the summoning runes and sigils inside -’

‘- and bippity boppity boo, here I am.’ Crowley throws back his head, wheezing. ‘All ’cause a few kids were mean?’

‘I take my craft very seriously, Crowley.’

‘Very.’ Crowley nods gravely. ‘And now you have to deal with this.’

With a snap of his fingers, Crowley resumes time. He stifles a snort when the children yell louder at abruptly seeing him out of the hat.

‘How’d you _do_ that?’

‘It has to be a trick!’

‘Dunno, he looks skinny enough to fit -’

‘Sir, who is he?’ shouts a girl from the back.

‘Oh, uh,’ Aziraphale clears his throat, seeming very much like he doesn’t have the wherewithal to _deal with this_ after all. ‘He is …’ he looks helplessly at Crowley before lighting up. ‘Right, yes, this is my very talented magician’s assis -’

‘I’m his boyfriend,’ Crowley interrupts.

Aziraphale’s cheeks flame as red as Crowley’s hair while the children erupt into a cacophony of hoots and ‘eeww’s around them.

Crowley smirks; he is not above exacting a little revenge.

(And when Aziraphale yanks Crowley out of his top hat again later that night, and snogs him on the sofa for hours, Crowley makes an educated guess that it wasn’t too fast after all.)


	6. (Zombies) - Scrummy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - **Zombies**
> 
> 'Angel, what part of the body would you wanna eat most if you were a zombie?’

‘Angel, what part of the body would you wanna eat most if you were a zombie?’

Of all the questions Crowley has ever asked when Aziraphale is naked and desperate under him, this is the one to kill the mood the quickest.

‘What?’ Aziraphale squawks, highly affronted that Crowley is thinking about eating him instead of, you know, _eating_ him.

‘A favourite body part you’d eat if you were a zombie,’ Crowley repeats patiently. Like they’re in the middle of a wine-soaked discussion and not moments away from fucking each other’s brains out.

Speaking of which -

‘Is it not widely accepted that these _fictitious_ creatures seek human brains above all?’ Aziraphale humours him, poorly veiling his irritation.

‘Angel!’ Crowley sounds delighted, flopping down beside Aziraphale and propping his head up on one elbow. Aziraphale chokes back a cry because now they’re not touching at all. ’Are you, dare I say, _dabbling_ in pop culture now?’

‘If listening to your rants about those ridiculous films constitute dabbling.’

‘They’re fun,’ Crowley protests. ‘A world overrun by the undead is far more adventurous than, yanno, the shit our former sides tried to do.’

‘Crowley,’ Aziraphale says, with the last dregs of his patience. ‘What brought this on during, well, _now_?’

‘Ah.’ Crowley’s cheeks are turning that lovely shade of pink Aziraphale adores. ‘I was just thinking…’

‘Yes?’ Aziraphale abruptly becomes invested. He knows that look. Fucking each other’s brains out is still on the table - ahem, bed.

‘You’re very, uh, soft.’

‘So you’ve told me.’ Aziraphale hides a smile, thinking about the activities that had followed the first time Crowley admitted how pleasing he finds Aziraphale’s form.

‘And there are,’ Crowley’s whole face is flaming now, as he vaguely waves his hand over Aziraphale’s supine body, ‘certain bits that I, um, like to…’

‘Eat?’ The smile breaks out and Aziraphale looks at Crowley from under his eyelashes, the way he knows drives Crowley crazy. ‘I am aware and deeply appreciative. Nineteen orgasms in under an hour, wasn’t it? Our record? Your poor mouth. I still recall how red and swollen it got. Your lips were _dripping_ with me.’

‘Aziraphale!’ Crowley’s eyes widen, his blush spreading to his chest. ‘That’s not -!’ A series of consonants follow before Crowley chokes out, ‘Not what I meant, angel!’

‘Oh?’ Aziraphale plays up a pout. ‘What else could you possibly mean?’

‘I mean,’ Crowley says stoutly, though he is still flushed, ‘I just realised I really enjoy, eh, biting you … in specific places. When we fuck.’

‘You just realised?’ Aziraphale echoes, recalling with amusement how Crowley had introduced his teeth to Aziraphale’s thighs the very first night they slept together.

‘Didn’t exactly think about it before,’ Crowley admits. ‘But I like how my teeth, y’know, _sinks_ in some places. Is that weird?’

It is weird, but Aziraphale, being a very greedy and shamelessly enthusiastic bitee, doesn’t mind at all.

‘Like my thighs?’ he says, hoping to prompt Crowley into action.

‘Yeah …’ Crowley’s eyes darken and Aziraphale sucks in a breath when he draws up, ‘I also love biting you…’ Crowley leans over Aziraphale’s middle, ‘right _here_.’ And he sinks his teeth into the roll of fat right above Aziraphale’s hips.

The Angel yelps, bucking in surprise and sudden pleasure, but Crowley presses him down into the mattress, still biting into his love handle and swirling his tongue over the soft flesh.

‘Crowley,’ Aziraphale says breathily, his arousal peaking again with vengeance.

‘Yeah,’ Crowley rasps, leaning back. He fingers the teeth marks he’s left on Aziraphale and licks his lips, a gesture that makes Aziraphale feel short of breath. ‘Like that. I love being able to bite _in_. Just … feeling your flesh between my teeth, in my mouth.’

‘And,’ Aziraphale swallows, heat twisting his gut into knots, ‘of everything, that reminded you of those terrible zombie films? Should I be worried?’

‘Well,’ Crowley grins, a hint of mischief toning down the dark desire on his face, ‘not that I’d actually take a bite out of you, but it got me thinking - if there were such circumstances -’

‘If you were a zombie,’ Aziraphale snorts.

‘I definitely know which bits of you I’d want to eat,’ Crowley finishes with a cheeky wink that manages to be both salacious and infuriating.

‘You’re absolutely ridiculous.’

‘And you’re _scrummy_ ,’ Crowley returns in an imitation of Aziraphale’s tone, still grinning.

Rolling his eyes, Aziraphale is about to tell Crowley to _please_ resume the lovely things he was doing before his train of thought derailed, but Crowley returns to his initial question then.

‘So? What about you? What part of me would you eat if you were a zombie?’

Aziraphale glares at him, ready to tell him off, but then he realises -

‘I’m not sure, my dear,’ he muses, pulling on a thoughtful look. ‘Unlike me, you’re … well, you’re a bit skin and bones, aren’t you?’

‘Oi!’

‘No, wait, I’m mistaken.’ Aziraphale rakes his gaze very pointedly down Crowley’s body, until -

‘There is one bit of you that’s impressively larger than average, hmm?’

‘ _Ngk_.’

‘Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I would very much like to feel it in my mouth.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out the [podfic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28568571)by Djapchan! <3


	7. (Prayers) - I lay my head back down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - **Prayers**
> 
> Crowley is _not_ on board when Satan reroutes humans' infernal prayers to him. But then, among all the voices, he detects one he is not expecting - and it's speaking words straight out of his wildest fantasies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags - Off-screen masturbation
> 
> C/W - Voyeurism of the auditory kind, which could constitute mild dubcon

Crowley was annoyed as all hell when satanists became the next new fad. Their existence was inevitable, devil-worship being merely the flip-side of regular worship. Crowley wouldn’t have _minded_ them though, if Satan hadn’t decided to reroute their infernal prayers to _him_.

After four millennia, apparently the King of Hell had better things to do than listen to humans vowing to sacrifice their first-borns in his dishonour - and who better than his earthly field agent to play at receptionist?

It was boring at best ( _O’ dark lord, convince my da to keep this puppy!_ ); and downright scarring at worst ( _Take me, great beast! As your proud servant, I offer the unholy temple of my body to sheath your great big burning coc-!_ ).

Crowley usually tuned them out. There weren’t a whole lot of satanists that genuinely prayed to the devil, and he kept an ear out only for the truly _inspiring*_ requests he could plagiarise and take credit for.

(* - i.e. to say, _galaxy-brained_.)

He’d resigned himself to his lot in life when, several moons after his new powers manifested, his ears pricked at a voice - the first and only to name _him_ instead of a generic allusion to the big guy Downstairs.

It was also a voice he’d last heard just the previous day at Petronius’s.

_O’ Crowley, would that tongue of yours go all the way inside me?_

He sprayed his mouthful of house brown so hard that patrons at three tables over were startled. He’d barely knocked two braincells together to magically hide himself - thus inciting a taberna brawl as the drenched Romans turned on each other - when the voice continued breathlessly,

 _What a tempter, you foul fiend!_ Curling _your tongue around the oyster like that,_ lapping _it up - I could swear you did it deliberately to confound me!_

''T’was my first time,’ Crowley spluttered at thin air, slamming down his wine cup. ‘And ya wouldn’t start till I - fuck was I supposed to know _how_ to eat oys -?!’

_Crowley, would that tongue wrap all the way around my - ohh!_

The call faded out but not before Crowley caught the beginning of an unmistakable moan, betraying exactly what his not-very-infernal caller was doing when he invoked Crowley’s name.

Crowley slumped in his seat, breathing out, ‘Whoo-ee.’ Then he grinned, utterly delighted, and set off for his domus to have a very happy wank.

The next time they met, Aziraphale looked him in the eye with perfect composure, seemingly at ease as they drank together and roamed the markets. The following morning, Crowley was hounded for a solid two hours with Aziraphale invoking his name as the Angel - there was no doubt about it - masturbated furiously.

_Serpent of Eden, indeed! Do you enjoy tormenting me so? To sit across from me and dangle the forbidden fruit?_

Crowley raised an eyebrow, reclined in bed as he listened to the ‘prayer’ with great enjoyment and lust. He’d touch himself later; now, Aziraphale deserved his undivided attention.

The ‘forbidden fruit’, it turned out, was the way Crowley lolled out his tongue when he raised his wineskin to drink from yesterday.

 _Who drinks with their_ tongue _first,_ Aziraphale wailed, complaining and praising in equal measure. _Except for beasts that stalk hapless prey and - oh, but you_ are _a snake, I suppose._

Crowley’s eyebrows shot higher. Was that - did Aziraphale want him to…?

_O’ Crowley, is that how you would drink from me if I -_

‘Fucking hell!’ Crowley yelped, scrabbling to shove his clothes aside to get at his cock. Fuck waiting. He came all over his hand, listening to Aziraphale’s voice moaning exactly what he wanted Crowley’s tongue to do to him.

And so it would go on for centuries. It became clear that Aziraphale’s fantasies, and his shameless invocation of Crowley during, were not recent developments. Crowley simply had access to them now and he was impressed with how Aziraphale maintained unaffected nonchalance in person while he was privately fucking himself raw over Crowley.

It was flattering, so much that it would be hard to believe if it weren’t for the voice in his metaphysical ear:

 _Crowley, must you let yourself go around me? Your teeth sharpened when we tried those pears today. The tease! My neck_ ached _. Would your fangs break my skin if you bit me?_

_Sweet Serpent, frightening away those scoundrels from my precious scrolls! But I wish you’d lingered in that form. Your scales have the loveliest iridescence! What I would give to feel them on my skin…_

_Oh, Crowley, it has been an age since you wore your hair long again. My hands itched to touch. Would you have liked it, if I tangled my fingers in it? Would you let me pull just so while you took me with your mouth?_

The unintentional calls left Crowley deliciously aroused and ridiculously happy. There were moments he felt guilty for overhearing, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell the Angel. Aziraphale, who outwardly maintained strict boundaries, would doubtless pull away from him, if only out of shame. Crowley didn’t want to lose their friendship.

And, well, it wasn’t really harming anyone. Crowley didn’t view Aziraphale differently either, except with greater joy now that he knew his feelings, carnal desires included, were reciprocated - enthusiastically at that!

_Oh, wile tempter. You claim indifference towards food but took such pleasure in licking that kulfi off your fingers! How tempted I was to take your fingers in my own mouth … I would take your fingers in me anywhere._

_Goodness, Crowley, how uncomfortably tight your clothes appeared! I’d worry but you were utterly distracting, lounging about with your legs spread so indecently. It concealed nothing!_

_Serpent! An apt name for you as I’ve thought of nothing but the shape of you, which you bare so seductively in those confining pantaloons! I’ve not forgot how_ big _you are, though last I saw you was in the baths of Rome. To see it again now - and see it, I do, those rakish clothes reveal all! - oh, my dear, it matters little how many fingers I put inside me, I’m empty without you!_

Holy fuck. Yeah, Crowley could not give _this_ up for anything. Perhaps there would come a day when he’d be allowed to grant everything Aziraphale begged for in his little prayers*, but for now, he would take what he could.

(* The day in question dawned less than a week after the thwarted Armageddon. Crowley dropped Aziraphale off at the bookshop but hadn’t taken three steps when he heard,

_Oh, my dear Crowley, I wish you’d stay. I wish I knew how to tell you - oh, if only you could hear everything I’d prayed for -_

Crowley didn’t lose a moment. He burst into the bookshop and swept Aziraphale into his arms, kissing the surprised look off his face.

‘Crowley! What are you-?’

‘Answering your prayers**,’ Crowley grunted before shutting Aziraphale up again.

** Aziraphale was, indeed, mortified beyond measure and quite upset upon learning the truth. But by the time Crowley finally cleared his overflowing infernal inbox - a length of time we will not attempt to measure - Aziraphale was more than happy to forgive him.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last week, I wrote a fic for another OLHTS prompt _Alpha Centauri_ , but posted it separately bc it wasn't crack. If I may interest you in a very soft one-shot about Crowley taking Aziraphale to see his stars, where love is confessed and kisses are exchanged, check out [**Elysian**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28758324)


	8. (Reports) - Menial but Urgent Matters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - **Reports**
> 
> ‘Crowley, what would you use lubricant for as a matter of urgency?’

‘Crowley, what would you use lubricant for as a matter of urgency?’

‘Eh? Care to repeat that?’

‘ _Lubrication_ , my dear. I need to know why humans might need it, for menial but urgent matters.’

‘… Wow. Bit insulted here, angel. You finally give me a night of passion but then call just to ask -’

‘I’m in a hurry, Crowley, I need to submit this report within the hour!’

‘Fine, fine, hang on … Nngh hmm … right, well, they need lube for what we did last night -’

‘A purpose _other_ than that, please. Oh, hush, don’t laugh -’

‘Heh. Mm, they use it when things get stuck? Butter or oil helps when, say, a ring gets stuck on their finger -’

‘Oh! Oh, yes, that’s _perfect_. Thank you, Crowley!’

‘Sure…? Anyway, you free tonight?’

‘Are you asking if I’d like to make love again?’

‘I - ngh - wha …! I _will_ hang up on you, Aziraphale.’

‘You do that and come over in an hour, darling. I’ll be waiting. Shall I leave my bowtie on? You seemed to like that last night.’

‘… Fucking hell.’

~***~ ‘

Hey, angel, what’s up?’

‘I need another example of lubricant use, please.’

‘Let me guess - for _menial but urgent_ human matters again?’

‘Precisely.’

‘Why are you asking me, though?’

‘Well, I’ve never had to lubricate anything and thus lack knowledge on the matter. You, on the other hand, are quite imaginative -’

‘Yeah, yeah, shut up. Flattery’ll get you anywhere. Let’s see … humans oil their bicycles? When the chain gets stuck -’

‘Oh, yes, very good. Thank you again, my dear.’

‘Huh. So, um, d’you wanna -?’

‘I’m already in bed and thinking of you, dear.’

‘Gosh.’

~***~

‘Hello, Crowley, might I ask -?’

‘I hear humans gotta use lubricant in their car engines. I wouldn’t know, mine’s well behaved.’

‘Splendid!’

~***~

‘Crowley …’

‘Factories. Gotta keep them moving parts from stickin’.’

‘Ooh! Thank you, darling.’

~***~

‘Um, Crowley -’

‘OK, that’s it. Spill. Why are you so hung up on lubrication? It’s been months!’

‘I told you, I need to know for my reports -’

‘Fuck kinda reports are you writing to _Heaven_ about lubricating _car engines_?!’

‘…’

‘ _Aziraphale._ ’

‘Oh, all right! I received a note a while back, that Heaven had noticed my increasing uses of … well…’

‘…’

‘Don’t make me say it.’

‘Nah, I think I will. Go on.’

‘Hmph. _Fine_. I’ve been using too many self-lubrication miracles and I needed to report why they were … well, necessary. And not frivolous.’

‘Pfft!’

‘Don’t laugh, Crowley, it’s _dreadful_! I’ve had to claim that I miracled up lubricant to help someone remove their ring without amputating their finger!’

‘Hah!’

‘And then I said I had to bless a factory because its machinery was malfunctioning and liable to explode -’

‘Holy shit!’

‘Stop laughing…’

‘So you’re telling me you’ve been bullshitting your reports to Heaven - all because you’re too impatient to get fucked?’

‘I simply don’t see the point of not jumping right into it, since we’re capable of doing so.’

‘… Christ’s sake. And this whole time I thought you just liked it that way.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Get on the bed. I want you naked by the time I get there.’

‘A-all right?’

‘’M gonna show you what else humans use lube for. Oh and, angel?’

‘…Yes?’

‘When I’m done with you, you’ll never want to waste miracles on self-lubricating again.’


	9. (Let's Watch...) - What can I say except "You're Welcome"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt - **Let's Watch...**
> 
> Crowley drags Aziraphale to the cinema to tick a very special item off his unofficial Courting Aziraphale bucket list. It does not go as planned.

Ever since the day Crowley learnt why _two_ unicorns were needed, and subsequently how that related to people, he started paying close attention to the diverse methods of human courtship.

For over five thousand years, he observed how humans wooed and flirted and peacocked, and at some point during, he began to apply what he’d learnt, to woo and flirt and peacock at a certain Angel as well.

Of course he’d refrained from making blatant romantic overtures so that they could pretend the countless meals and drinks they’d shared, the unassuming gifts they’d exchanged, and every outing they’d embarked on were nothing more than social events.

But after the thwarted Armageddon, there was nothing to stop Crowley from unleashing five millennia of suppressed feelings on their ‘meetings’, which he could now openly declare as ‘dates’. He felt no shame whatsoever in turning up at Aziraphale’s door with exotic flowers that didn’t grow in England, sending him gifts of decadent chocolates and vintage wines, and interrupting their walks to kiss him in the middle of St James - all of them little ticks on Crowley’s unofficial bucket list on romancing Aziraphale.

However, five thousand years of learning human courtship meant that Crowley had also internalised certain dating tropes from the last couple of decades. They had made him cringe as a third-party observer - meaning that he, of course, had to experience all of them with Aziraphale.

Which was why, a half hour before midnight, Crowley led a bemused Aziraphale into a cinema, armed with a bucket of buttered popcorn and two cokes.

‘I still don’t understand why we’re doing this,’ Aziraphale said as Crowley guided him to the middle of the nearly empty theatre. ‘You know I don’t care much for …’ he wrinkled his nose at the previews playing on the screen, ‘ _films_.’

‘It’s a date,’ Crowley explained for the fifth time, plonking Aziraphale down on his seat. He wedged the cokes into the cupholders and collapsed next to the Angel. ‘I told you, it’s classic.’

‘If you wanted _classic_ ,’ Aziraphale said, gingerly picking up a piece of popcorn, ‘you could’ve taken me to that new production of Macbeth at the West End.’

‘What’s with you and the gloomy ones?’ Crowley grumbled into his coke, making sure to slurp loud enough to draw annoyed glares from the couple a few rows ahead. ‘I took you to see Much Ado a few years ago and you griped my ears off for two months.’

‘That so-called production was an _atrocity_ ,’ Aziraphale huffed, swallowing his popcorn and looking pleasantly surprised at the taste. ‘They put Benedick in a super-whatever-you-call-it shirt -!’

‘It was a Superman tee and for fuck’s sake, them wearing modern clothes while spouting Shakespeare was the _point_!’

‘A whole array of historically accurate costumes at the Globe and they put Benedick in a _skirt_ -’

‘He rocked that skirt.’

‘My point, dear boy, is that during Shakespeare’s time -’

‘Dun care what you say, angel, I sent flowers to their costuming department. Legs for _days_ on that actor.’

Aziraphale went silent, chewing on his second mouthful of popcorn before grudgingly relenting, ‘He was rather attractive.’ Helping himself to more, Aziraphale added, ‘Though coming back to earlier, I fail to see why you think I’d enjoy an _animated film_ more.’

Crowley angles his head at him, smirking. ‘Oh, you’ll see, angel.’

Right then, the previews ended and the lights dimmed. Heaving a put-upon sigh, Aziraphale faced the screen, and Crowley began to count down in his head.

Five minutes was the maximum he was going for. He’d been at the cinema enough times to observe what young human lovers did under the cover of darkness; five minutes and he was going to draw Aziraphale into a long, languorous snog.

Aziraphale might not be a fan of ‘moving pictures’ but luckily for him, he wasn’t required to watch. As part of his courtship bucket list, Crowley had planned this date perfectly. He’d needed a film that wouldn’t distract him* and a cinema empty enough where Aziraphale wouldn’t be self-conscious - hence, he’d discreetly _inspired_ this one to put on a late-night marathon of recent Disney** hits smack in the middle of the week.

(* Crowley had already seen this one, at its London premiere no less.

** It was unclear whether Disney studios was aware of this isolated midnight showing.)

As Crowley had expected, only a handful of adults were scattered about the cinema and the last thing Aziraphale would be interested in was a children’s film. It was the perfect set-up to sit back, entwine his fingers with Aziraphale’s and eventually lean in to -

‘My goodness, that’s _animated_?’ Aziraphale gasped, halting Crowley’s approach. Blinking, Crowley shoved his sunglasses up onto his head and stared at the ultra-realistic ocean waves surrounding the young female protagonist.

‘Yeah, ’s cool, right? CGI and all that -’

‘What’s CGI?’ murmured Aziraphale but he was no longer paying attention. ‘Oh, that’s truly impressive!’ he breathed, his blue eyes sparkling with childlike astonishment.

For a long moment, Crowley just smiled dopily at him, endeared by Aziraphale and his unexpected - and belated - enchantment at modern technology. But then he remembered his plan and, with a fortifying inhale, leaned over the armrest to brush his lips over Aziraphale’s cheek. Bringing up his other hand, he cupped the Angel’s face, tilting it towards him so that their mouths slotted together.

Crowley drew in Aziraphale’s bottom lip between his own, sucking lightly and settling in for a long, leisurely snog. If he remembered correctly, he had a good hour and half before the film ended to make out with his Angel.

But Aziraphale leaned back with a questioning sound, brows furrowing when Crowley chased his lips. Crowley shot him a sultry smile, holding Aziraphale’s gaze before pointedly looking down at his parted mouth. Aziraphale seemed puzzled, but he gave Crowley a swift kiss before turning back to the film.

He blinked. OK, that - that wasn’t how he envisioned this going down. Maybe he needed to get Aziraphale in the mood. That was fine; Crowley was good at that.

Humming under his breath, Crowley leaned in again, kissing Aziraphale’s cheek once more before mouthing slowly along his jaw. He let his hand slide down over the Angel’s chest to rest on top of his thigh, where it began a sly journey up towards his -

‘Crowley,’ Aziraphale hissed, grasping his wrist, ‘what are you doing?’

‘Mmm, whatchu think?’ Crowley purred into his ear, licking at the shell before sucking Aziraphale’s earlobe into his mouth, nibbling at it teasingly.

‘Stop that, you’re distracting me.’

‘’S mah point,’ Crowley whispered, releasing Aziraphale’s ear to kiss the sensitive spot behind it. He laved his tongue over the soft skin.

‘Crowley, I’m trying to watch - the ocean just gave her that stone!’

It took two seconds before Crowley realised Aziraphale was genuinely cross. He drew back, incredulous. ‘You’re serious.’

‘Of course.’ Aziraphale didn’t even spare him a glance, his fingers knuckle deep in popcorn and eyes glued to the screen. ‘That’s why we’re here.’

Crowley choked back his protest that that _wasn’t_ why they were there. Blessed heavens, he’d brought Aziraphale on the perfect date for a snog-fest - but here was the Angel, snooty snob extraordinaire who’d turned up his nose at the very first black-and-white silent films, shooting down Crowley’s very romantic proposal to kiss and grope like teenagers in favour of watching Moana and Maui fight fucking coconuts.

‘Even their hair looks real,’ Aziraphale whispered, pointing needlessly at the demigod’s shock of luscious black curls. ‘It’s very nice.’

‘I have nice hair,’ Crowley grumbled, slouching down in his seat.

‘Hmm?’ Aziraphale said but it couldn’t be more evident that he wasn’t listening.

And that was how Crowley ended up spending the entire runtime _not_ kissing Aziraphale and pretending he didn’t grudgingly enjoy the songs.

Aziraphale continued to gush about the film’s aesthetics when they left the cinema later. Crowley was still a bit put-out but he listened without interrupting until Aziraphale was done.

‘That was surprisingly lovely,’ he sighed at last, looping his arm through Crowley’s. ‘Thank you, darling.’

‘What can I say except you’re welcome?’ Crowley half-sang and then grimaced immediately. Damn it, that song was going to loop in his head for the next week.

Aziraphale laughed, looking at him knowingly. ‘I take it that wasn’t how you expected tonight to go?’

‘You mean, did I take my partner to a show he wouldn’t like so I could snog him for two hours and then shag him for two more at home but Walt Disney fucked my entire plan from beyond the grave?’ said Crowley dryly in a single breath. ‘Nah, whatever gave you that idea?’

‘The way I see it,’ said Aziraphale in a low voice, deliberately pressing into Crowley’s side, ‘my partner introduced me to a new experience I didn’t realise I would love, and as such, I am very eager to shower him with my…’ he cupped Crowley’s cheek, tilting his face towards Aziraphale much like Crowley had done earlier, and kissed him deeply, right there in the middle of the pavement, ‘endless gratitude,’ he finished in a coy whisper.

Crowley stared at him, jaw slack, before breaking into a wide grin. ‘Oh, angel,’ he crooned, pulling Aziraphale close, ‘I can’t wait to introduce you to _Netflix and chill_.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you caught my poking fun at David Tennant's (admittedly spectacular) performance in the 2011 production of Much Ado About Nothing, can I hear a wahoo XD

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RV_Phoenix_Soar) and [Tumblr](https://phoenix-soar.tumblr.com)
> 
> More of my (non-cursed) Ineffable Husbands fics [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=575567&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Phoenix_Soar)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Scrummy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28568571) by [Djapchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Djapchan/pseuds/Djapchan)




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